


Three Questions

by Aleatory



Series: Sunlight is Like Gold [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Archangel Gabriel (Supernatural), Curious Sam, Fluff, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Music, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 15:29:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2353385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleatory/pseuds/Aleatory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam didn't know Gabriel could play. He also didn't know how much he'd love listening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Questions

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again! This is the first part of three, each dealing with a different aspect of music, but still united as one fic universe with a lot of the same images and themes throughout. Set late season 8-ish? but as long as you're cool with the idea of Gabriel just crashing in the bunker whenever, you're good. Thanks again to GreyMichaela for beta-ing all three parts!

“What is that?” Sam asks the instant Gabriel pauses in his chord progressions.

The archangel looks up at Sam, standing in the doorway, and beams. He’d been aware of his audience, but the audience’s interest in what he’s playing is a pleasant surprise. “Medieval predecessor to the guitar.  ’M rather fond of it.” He lowers his head and returns to the instrument, beginning to pluck out a melody over top of the layer of chords.

Sam stands in the doorway a while longer, listening. The angel is very good, and he’s not even using any kind of tricks or angel magic- he’s just playing. Sam leans his head against the doorframe, half-wanting to absorb himself entirely into the song, half-wanting to leave Gabriel alone to practice.

Sam loves music, he really does, although you wouldn’t guess that about him, because he’s what most people would call “tone-deaf”. He’s never touched a musical instrument in his life, other than a semester of piano lessons that taught him scales and “Chopsticks”, and he still can’t read sheet music.  Dean has all the singing talent in the family- even though he won’t admit it in public, Sam has _heard_ him in the shower. Sam could perhaps carry a tune, if he studied it long enough, but overall, he’d consider himself the less musical of the two brothers.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like to listen. Whatever song Gabriel’s playing, Sam hasn’t heard it before, so he suspects it’s either from the same time period as the instrument it’s being played on. That, or the archangel is making it up as he goes- also entirely possible. Either way, Sam loves it. He’d never known Gabriel could play.

The archangel pauses again to look back up at him. “You’re welcome to listen, you know.”

“I couldn’t disturb you-” he starts, but Gabriel rolls his eyes.

“Come on, Sammitch, this is worth hearing. Besides, I like attention. Win/win.”

Sam obediently settles down on the other end of the couch with a soft smile.

\--

The next time he hears music in the bunker that isn’t something Dean’s playing on his headphones way too loudly, it’s coming from the piano tucked away in one of the back rooms of the bunker. Sam has run through his scales a few times on it, and Dean has figured out how to plunk out the opening to “Smoke on the Water”, but other than that, it sits silent.

This time, though, it’s a complex, beautiful piece that he’s pretty sure is by Beethoven.

“How did you get so good?” Sam asks, entirely genuine, as the piece draws to a close.

“Centuries of practice, Sam.” Gabriel drops his hands from the keys. “I used to be an organ player at a town church. Then they accused me of witchcraft and there was some fire involved aaaaand let’s just say I stayed out of town for a century or so.”

Sam smiles, picturing a village of people trying to take on _Gabriel_ with nothing but pitchforks and torches. “But you did go back.”

Gabriel scrunches his nose and nods. “Organ was gone. Nothing worth staying for at that point.” He brings his hands back up to the keyboard and starts another song, by a composer that’s familiar, but unknown. Sam wanders across the room to lean on the piano and lets his eyes slowly close.

The notes slow, get simpler, as Gabriel starts talking. “When you’ve been hanging around earth without any cause, or uh… friends…” There’s a pause. “You start looking for hobbies. And music, well- it’s not something you can snap your fingers and get good at. You need to love it enough to sit with the piano, and the organ, and whatever else you feel like playing, for hours on end. I can snap my fingers and let symphonies and long-lost melodies and all the songs of the eighties play, but that’s not being a musician, it’s just being a really good record archive. And I wanted to be a musician. There’s something beautiful in that creation, you know? Something… holy.”

It’s the first time Sam has heard Gabriel talk with such passion and affection about anything, except his family. Even there, he’d spoken with frustration, anger, and grief. Here, there’s only adoration. “I love music, too.” Sam mumbles softy, opening his eyes to catch Gabriel’s.

The angel smiles warmly. “I know.”

\--

When Sam hears the violin melody humming through the bunker, he doesn’t go find the source because he’s curious. He knows exactly who it is, and he wants to listen. Admittedly, he could listen from where he was, no problem, but he mostly wants to watch. Gabriel had been right- there was something holy in the kind of playing he did, and it showed. Sam finds him playing a sequence of notes delicately and quickly, lost in concentration as he watches each movement of the bow intently. His chin rests on the violin like he was made to hold one.

The hunter stays in his usual place, the doorway, and watches the sunlight lighting up the instruments polished surface. The sunlight’s probably lighting the angel’s eyes, too, Sam thinks. Showing off all the swirls of hazel and gold among the earthy brown. Making him look like a proper angel instead of someone who’d eaten all Dean’s sugary breakfast cereal earlier that morning and then laughed.

“You know I can hear you, right Samasaurus?”

“And I’m only here because _I_ can hear _you_ ,” Sam responds, wandering into the room. “I don’t recognize the melody.” The sunlight looks nice, and Sam wants to watch with his back to the sun and Gabriel’s face towards him, so he crosses to the windowsill and leans there instead.

“Ah, I’m just warming up.” Gabriel keeps playing right away, choosing series’ of notes that aren’t exactly songs, but certainly keep Sam eager for more. “I’m a little out of practice on this.”

Sam watches him a few minutes longer. “What made you start playing again, now?”

Gabriel doesn’t even look up. “You.”

“ _What?”_

The bow scrapes across the strings with a dreadful collection of notes not meant to be heard together as Gabriel lowers it to look directly at Sam. Maybe it’s the sunlight, but there’s a certain innocence in the archangel’s eyes that Sam’s not used to seeing there, and he catches his breath for a reason he doesn’t quite understand.

“You-” the angel repeats, and suddenly that look is gone, replaced by typical Gabriel humor. “You want to know why I started playing? I told you the other day, Sammy-boy; I wanted to make something better than cheap replicas of Dad’s stuff. I wanted to pass the decades, and I wanted to have a few extra tricks up my sleeve.”

Sam did know why Gabriel had started playing, and he knew that wasn’t what had been asked, and he knew what he’d heard. Gabriel may have begun for those reasons, but those things weren’t what had driven him to pick up an instrument again. After all these years, after everything, what had finally given him the push to start again? What had inspired him to return to loving music? _You. You, Sam Winchester. You._

Sam nods carelessly, breath returning to normal but heart still thumping eagerly away. “I guess you did. Tell me that, I mean.” Sam gestures to the violin. “You don’t mind if I-”

“Listen in?” Gabriel rushes. Despite the teasing, there’s a hint of that innocent, vulnerable gaze left- although maybe it’s just the sunlight. “Always delighted to play for you, Sam.”

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the second and third part of this by clicking the little "next in series" arrow!  
> Also find me at aleatoryw.tumblr.com, where I usually take prompts.


End file.
